Masquerade
by snowsgirl
Summary: Germany and Italy switch bodies overnight! They have no idea how or how to get back to their own bodies, and at the same time, they want to keep it a secret from everyone else. Human names used, GerIta, rated M for possible smut. DROPPED
1. Chapter 1

Another de-anon.

Original request:

Something happens to make Italy and Germany switch bodies and they are unsure of what to do with their new bodies. How will their brothers react, how will they return to their bodies, and how do the others react to see Italy chug beer and Germany carry around a white flag?

Bonus: sex, with Germany topping in Italy's body.  
>Bonus: They don't want anyone knowing but somehow -Prussia's fault- people find out.<p>

…I'm probably going to leave smut out of this and then upload an exclusive smut thing here, because I personally want Italy to try and top.

* * *

><p>Ludwig had been greeted with a very unpleasant sight that morning. He'd woken up in his own bed, under his own blankets, with his own pillows, in his own room in his own house. It wasn't right though. Something seemed off.<p>

That wasn't the weird part, though.

The first thing he noticed was a strange, faint breeze where there should not have been one. He admitted quietly, to himself, that this breeze was not entirely unwelcome, but it was definitely unusual.

It took him a total of fifteen seconds to realize that he was naked, and he was more than a little certain that he had not been the previous night.

Brushing a bit of hair out of his face (it was getting long again; he'd have to get a haircut soon), he rolled over to look at Feliciano, who undoubtedly had slept in his bed again. Never mind that they were officially together, the boy's obsession with sharing a bed was a bit concerning.

What met him when he turned over was entirely unwelcome.

He was staring at the back of a rather large man's head, every last hair a fine, natural blond. His build was muscular and sturdy, and his sides rose and fell gently. He wore a black tank top, stretched over his muscles, and if he had not had all the blankets, it would have revealed that he was wearing only a light pair of boxers as covering for his lower regions.

Ludwig squeezed his eyes shut tightly, because he was not lying in bed with himself. Or a clone. Or... Whatever else it could be.

Something floated in his vision, out of the corner of his left eye, forcing him to tear his eyes away from the _thing_next to him.

It was a wild strand of hair that seemed to have flown away from the rest of his bed head. Without making a sound, he brought his hand to brush it back into place.

Bad idea.

He bit his lip to keep a moan from escaping, scaring himself. His eyes flew open at this, and he sat up quickly. He didn't want to wake whatever was lying in the bed next to him, but he had a sneaking suspicion that that was only half of his problem.

The other man shifted slightly, turning over. Ludwig froze. Slowly, blue eyes opened, gazing sleepily at him, making him feel somewhat more uncomfortable than before.

"Ve?"

Fuck no.

"Wie?"

"There is another me?" asked the one who was, without a doubt, Feliciano.

Ludwig shook his head quickly, throwing the little blanket he had on off, then standing quickly from the bed.

Then he understood the situation.

"You're me and I'm you!" Ludwig said suddenly, so shocked he could hardly find the words. Or maybe that was a side effect of being in the Italian's body.

Oh. That was worse than being naked in his own body. He blushed. At least Feliciano had taken care of that condition of his. He was thankful or that, at least.

"Hmm?" asked Feliciano, blinking as he sat up, stretching like a cat. It would have been cute if he were in his own body. "Who are you?"

How dense was he?

"Ludwig," murmured the German, clearing his throat. He didn't like how his voice sounded. It sounded like him, the same manner and tone, but the pitch was all wrong and so very Feliciano.

"I am you?" asked the Italian, looking down at himself. His expression stayed the same for a moment, but his hands were suddenly moving, and he was blushing a bit.

What the hell was he doing?

Feliciano lifted the black tank top and leaned back, feeling up the washboard abs, fingers slowly inching up to the hard, perfectly sculpted pecs.

"What are you doing?" asked Ludwig, alarmed. "Stop that!"

With a soft blush, Feliciano tugged the tank top back down, giving a tiny, nervous laugh. "Sorry. I just love your body, Ludi~!"

The German man folded his arms tightly, scowling. Feliciano thought he looked an awful lot like Lovino, but he bit his lip, ignoring the resemblance. He couldn't remember a time he'd ever worn an expression like that.

"Ludi... Are you going to put some clothes on?" asked Feliciano, diverting his eyes to Ludwig's face. He didn't particularly mind, himself, but Ludwig always got after him when he ran around naked, so...

Ludwig blushed as well and quickly turned around. "I'll just... Ja, I'm going to find something to wear."

Feliciano smiled and jumped out of bed happily, following Ludwig to his own room, where he never actually slept except for during siesta. "I want to help!"

"I can do it myself," grunted the German, frowning. Feliciano rarely dressed himself as it was. Even on his better days, Feliciano still didn't know how to tie his own shoelaces.

"Okay..." murmured the Italian quietly.

Ludwig pushed into Feliciano's room, searching for something suitable to wear. He settled on a dress shirt an tie, along with slacks and a nice pair of shoes that Feliciano had picked out despite the German man's qualms.

"There's a meeting today," Ludwig said finally, examining himself in the mirror.

He turned a couple of angles, sticking his hands in his pockets, then inspected the state his hair was in. He sighed an left it, not sure of what to do.

Feliciano decided to remedy this. Ludwig was not going to walk around looking like he just rolled out of bed. Had he been in his own body, even if he had just rolled out of bed, he certainly would not _look_like it. He brushed his fingers through Ludwig's hair before he could protest, taking extra, special care to avoid that little curl. When he decided he'd done a satisfactory job, he stood back, smiling at the German.

"...Uh... Danke..." mumbled Ludwig, looking past him distractedly.

"No," interjected Feliciano, leaning down to look Ludwig in the eye (which was really, really cool because he was always shorter than Germany and it was just so cool being taller), giving a small smile. "Say 'grazie.'"

The younger man frowned in confusion but opened his mouth obediently anyway. "'Grazie?'"

"Si~ Like before! You be Italy, and I'll be Germany!"

Ludwig nodded, considering this. "...It will be our little secret."

"Or it could be a game! We won't tell anyone, and whoever gives it away loses!" whispered Feliciano excitedly.

"...It isn't really a game at all. Look, if we present ourselves as who we are, meaning you as yourself, and me as myself, people are going to think we're as crazy as Arthur is. I have... had... very important business to attend to today... You won't have to speak to anyone, but you will have to make an appearance," Ludwig mumbled. "Nobody can find out. No matter what the cost, alright?"

Feliciano nodded understandingly, standing up straight again as Gilbert strolled into the room, looking for Ludwig.

"West!" he said suddenly, slinging his arms around Feliciano happily. "Who's my favorite little brother in the whole world?"

Ludwig masked a scowl, fighting the urge to respond negatively.

"I-I'm your only brother..." murmured Feliciano, bewildered. Not that he minded Gilbert having his arms all over him (he was used to excessive touching, it meant nothing to him.), but he hadn't expected such a greeting.

Gilbert made a whining noise of disapproval at being corrected, but it was all in good humor. "You can still be my favorite little brother. Either way I just love you so much~!"

"V-ve?"

Now Feliciano was confused. He was very lucky Gilbert wasn't listening very closely, or else he would have caught him right away.

"What do you mean 'how?'" asked Gilbert. "I just wanted to know if my favorite little brother in the whole world wanted to please make breakfast for me!"*

_'So__that's__it...'_Ludwig thought to himself, taking a seat on the bed idly. He kicked his feet lightly. That seemed like something the Italian would do.

"Sure," replied Feliciano, just a bit too cheerily. "I don't mind."

"What? Really?" It became evident that Gilbert had not really expected him to agree. If it were Ludwig, he wouldn't have, even though it was just a little bit more effort.

Gilbert had to learn to stop mooching off of him so much. Honestly, Gilbert teased Roderich for his freeloading tendencies, an he was just as bad. At least Roderich contributed to something-or-other as a nation. Gilbert, recently reinstated as a micronation, still contributed to nothing.

Feliciano nodded and turned away, still undressed.

Dammit. Ludwig stood quickly and tugged on Feliciano's hand before he could leave. He lowered his voice do that Gilbert wouldn't hear. "Put some clothes on first."

Then for Gilbert, he added a "Ti amo, Ludi~," cursing himself inwardly.

"I'll be in the kitchen in a few, okay?" offered Feliciano, glancing over his shoulder at the Prussian.

Gilbert nodded dumbly, then frowned as the two left the room.

"Something's up," he grumbled, exiting as well.

When the smell of breakfast finally began drifting throughout the house, there was definitely something wrong.

Was that... Marinara? What on earth was he making...?

Pasta.

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><p>Note: Gilbert heard "ve" to be "wie" which means "how" in German. I'm told that in Germany, you don't say "excuse me?" if you misheard someone or something, you would say "how?" That's just what I've heard from someone who used to live in Germany, I honestly don't really know. I may be wrong.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert was sitting at the table, watching the one he believed to be his brother closely. This person looked and sounded like Ludwig, but he didn't act right. First and foremost, he had just made pasta for breakfast.

Pasta. For breakfast.

Three plates of steaming noodles were placed around the table, one for Gilbert, who stared at his plate as if it would bite, one for Ludwig, and one for Feliciano.

Ludwig, the real Ludwig, had just entered the room seconds before. He sat down at the table, looking anxious about something. Gilbert was just about to ask him what was wrong when Feliciano gave a longing sigh, staring down at his plate. He also looked anxious, but it was an entirely different expression for him. He seemed upset, and this became obvious when Ludwig began picking at his spaghetti.

"What's with you two?" murmured the Prussian, watching them both with concern.

Somehow, Ludwig was able to ease up, and he ate a bit more quickly, genuinely savoring the taste. When had pasta started tasting so good? This disturbed Feliciano even further as he lifted a bite to his lips, then spit it out in a napkin and set the fork down. "…Why can't I eat pasta?"

This question made both Germans pause. Since when did West give two shits about pasta?

The younger of the three snapped his head up from his meal. Gilbert observed as the Italian gave the one he thought was his brother a long, disapproving stare. Then, as Ludwig returned to his meal, finding it surprisingly enjoyable, Feliciano slumped forward on the table, causing it to lean towards him a bit.

Ludwig managed to clean his plate. However, when he stood up, he didn't go back for seconds, as Feliciano would have, he went directly to the sink to wash his plate off. This struck Gilbert as odd. As did the fact that, for once, "Feliciano's" shoelaces were perfectly, painstakingly tied. A glance under the table confirmed that "Ludwig's" boots were not properly laced, let alone tied.

His hand shot out and rested over Feliciano's, prompting a nervous jump from the Italian as he sat up quickly. Gilbert gazed into his eyes intently.

This did not do much for the startled Italian, for despite being in Ludwig's larger, stronger body, he began to feel very small under the Prussian's gaze. Very, very small. His palms began to sweat. "What do you want from me?"

"You are not Ludwig." Gilbert pulled away, sitting back in his chair. Now that he thought of it, he did feel a bit dumb for not catching it earlier.

"I am so!" insisted Feliciano, only proving this further. "I slicked my hair back and everything!"

From the kitchen, Ludwig groaned. "Please. Just stop. Gilbert was just a test, and you failed miserably. How are we supposed to go anywhere like this if we can't even fool him? I can't cancel this meeting—I'm the host!"

After the German finished his mini-tyrade, there was a pregnant silence in the room. None of them dared to speak now.

Finally, Gilbert broke into loud, raucous laughter, shattering the silence. Ludwig's face turned beet red as the Prussian stood, approaching him. He couldn't help it. It was just too amazingly funny.

"Jesus Christ, how do you do these things to yourself?" Gilbert cackled, grinning down at his little brother.

"I-I don't know…" Ludwig could only glance to the side, shrinking away. "I didn't do anything."

The Prussian raised his hand, snorting as he did so. He rugged at the curl attached to the side of Ludwig's head. "Ja? Did you ever figure this out, then?"

"Ohh-oh Gott, Bruder, stop that!" Ludwig was beginning to hate that thing. He felt faint, and his knees threatened to buckle under him at any moment. A shaky hand moved to push Gilbert away, but it was a very weak attempt. "Bitte…let go!"

When Gilbert made no motion to do so, Feliciano decided now was a good time to intervene.

In the German's body, he could have done any number of things to get him to stop. Out of all of them, instead, he ran his fingers lightly up and down the Prussian's side, tickling him gently.

Gilbert didn't laugh. He wasn't particularly ticklish. He did, however, release the long strand of hair, and whip around to correct this behavior. "What the hell? What was that for?"

"Don't touch that," murmured Feliciano, for once coming off as entirely certain. He was all too aware of what that felt like. Watching his lover writhe like that stirred something in him, as well. It was almost as if he could feel it himself. He couldn't, of course, but he almost anticipated it.

"Uh… fine." Gilbert looked more confused than anything else. "Whatever." He still wasn't sure what happened.

Ludwig sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it…"

Feliciano bit his lip and smiled a little, trying not to seem awkward. "No that Gil knows, can I take my clothes off again?"

"Nein!" Both brothers had spoken at once. The thought of an Italian wandering around naked was bad enough, but considering this Italian looked an awful lot like himself, it was worse. Besides, the idea unsettled Gilbert greatly. Ick.

Feliciano looked a bit taken aback by the overwhelming response, but he nodded, accepting this. "Ludi, what time is the meeting?"

"There's a meeting today?" asked Gilbert, as if this was the absolute first he had ever heard of it. "I think I'll tag along with you two losers for today. You need all the help you can get."

"It starts at one," the German grumbled in irritation. As Gilbert was technically the representation of the Eastern parts of Germany, he was technically allowed to attend. He rarely did, except on days when he was either feeling particularly useless, or he knew something interesting was about to happen. It wasn't hard to guess which one. "You can come… but if you say one word, I'll tell Roderich that you've been urinating in his flower garden. He's bound to figure it out eventually, if the plants keep ending up dead."

At this, Gilbert's face reddened considerably. "Why do _you _know about that? Have you been stalking me?"

Ludwig shook his head and sighed, rolling his eyes. "I always did wonder if you even hear half of the things you say. You told me yourself."

This seemed to shut the proud Prussian up for a while, and he went silent.

"Oh, yeah! Ludi, um…" the Italian fidgeted, looking nervous as his mind wandered back to something else. "Do you want my pasta…?"

"You didn't eat it?" Ludwig looked alarmed. "Well, I guess it makes sense… You're in my body right now… Why would I want your pasta?"

"Because, you ate _all _of yours," smiled Feliciano, shoving the plate over to his lover happily. "You like my pasta."

"Feliciano, we need to get ready for the meeting. I don't have time for your nonsense."

Italy nodded and followed Germany to his room. He began humming a light tune to himself as he did so, excited that Ludwig had finally enjoyed something that he cooked. Well, it wasn't that Ludwig didn't enjoy it, but he was never too excited for pasta. He loved the Italian's cooking otherwise. "Pasta~"


End file.
